


six string circus

by bensolosgirlfriend



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Music, Rey can sing in the cold, Slow Burn, Smut, jk I haven’t seen a Star is born, producer!ben, singer-songwriter!Ben, street performer!Rey, the Star is born AU nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22230286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bensolosgirlfriend/pseuds/bensolosgirlfriend
Summary: She has a steady, soft, raspy voice that makes him poke his head out even further. She doesn’t sound like she’s singing in twenty-degree weather; she might as well be in front of a microphone in the studio. He doesn’t care about the words, he doesn’t think he knows the song, but by the second verse, Ben finds himself hopping out of his friend’s first story window onto the sidewalk.Ben Solo decides then and there to take a chance on the skinny girl with the voice that doesn’t fit, playing the cruddy guitar for a few dollars on the side of road in Brooklyn Heights.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	six string circus

Ben Solo wants to roll his eyes into the back of his head when he hears the soft sound of an acoustic guitar breezing its way into his friend’s den window like a draft.

“Another ‘America’s Got Talent’ winner?” he quips with a tiny, maybe a little bit snide smirk on his face. 

Phasma swats at him with a not-so-delicate hand. “Don’t be an asshole. That was you, once.”

“I didn’t play guitar on the street, actually,” he says.

“No, just in the Knights of Columbus’ banquet halls and our middle school cafeteria,” she replies with a smirk of her own, while Hux howls with laughter to his side.

“That’s the little brunette, right?” Hux asks, and wiggles his eyebrows. “She’s actually not that bad.”

_ “Pretty _ doesn’t mean  _ good,” _ Ben remarks, but pushes the window open anyway. He’s met with a frigid, painful breeze that makes his skin pucker. 

“Hux is right, she’s pretty good,” Phasma agrees. “A little young,” she adds.

Ben pokes his head outside the window, staring down the girl on the corner who doesn’t exactly fit the aesthetic of Brooklyn Heights. Phasma is right: she’s young, maybe still a teenager, and she’s tall, and skinny, with curly brown hair. She’s not close enough that Ben can make out her features, but she’s wearing a coat that’s way too big for her and strumming an acoustic guitar that’s as worn as her cruddy boots and fingerless gloves. She’s also not that bad—especially considering the weather.

Ben himself would not think of playing live in this kind of abusive cold. He had avoided the Thanksgiving Parade for that reason specifically; he’s not sure the tips of his fingers would’ve been very useful, and yet, here this young thing is, strumming away.

She’s spinning around, putting on a show, and he has to admit, the people are eating it up. She hasn’t even opened her mouth, and there are already a few dollars in her guitar case, rickety and tattered on the sidewalk next to her. 

And then she sings.

She has a steady, soft, raspy voice that makes him poke his head out even further. She doesn’t sound like she’s singing in twenty-degree weather; she might as well be in front of a microphone in the studio. He doesn’t care about the words, he doesn’t think he knows the song, but by the second verse, Ben finds himself hopping out of his friend’s first story window onto the sidewalk.

“What the fuck, Solo?” Phasma calls after him, but Ben is already dusting the leaves off of his jeans from the bushes. 

Ben starts walking down the sidewalk like a man on a mission, heavy boots clunking and t-shirt not nearly enough against the arduous wind. There’s a boy standing behind her, he finally notices, about her height and with a smile as inspired and excited as hers. The boy notices Ben first, and his jaw slackens, and suddenly he’s not pumping his fist like the supportive friend. Instead, he’s tugging on the girls jacket and pointing at him. She doesn’t seem to falter, only turns around, carrying her tune with a pretty grin, to see what her friend wants.

Then she freezes.

Ben doesn’t know what to do, so he takes a step forward, and urges her on with a hand. He doesn’t want her to stop, and she doesn’t. She continues her song, but she’s staring at him now. She catches up to herself quickly, like a practiced musician, as easily and smoothly as her voice. When she finishes, she’s still staring at him.

“Well, go on,” he says. “Play another one.”

* * *

Rey sets up in Brooklyn Heights because Finn tells her they tip well. She knows Finn is a waiter, and that’s not exactly the same as a street performer, but she takes his word for it. She unclasps her guitar case and tosses the strap of her old, well-loved guitar over her shoulder, and makes sure it’s tuned. Finn is behind her, ever the encouraging best friend, with his thumbs up and a handsome smile on his face. Rey takes a deep breath, and she begins strumming.

Finn might be right. With a few pretty smiles, and a wink or two, she already has a few fives in her case that will buy them lunch. She spins around, strumming her guitar carefully, nails poking out of her fingerless gloves. It’s  _ just _ a little bit too cold, but a waiter and a barista don’t make enough to keep the heat running if they want to eat during the winter, so she plays. 

She sings an easy song, something she can push through without so many agonizing, wind-stained breaths. Finn is passing her words of encouragement like the breeze in her hair. An older couple tosses a ten in her case with a friendly smile, and Rey feels good about Brooklyn Heights.

When she’s just about finished the chorus, Finn tugs harshly on her coat. She turns with a furrowed brow and nearly wavers when she sees the shocked look on his face. She follows his pointer finger, and her fingers nearly get caught in her guitar strings.

Kylo Ren is standing in the middle of the sidewalk, in a flimsy t-shirt in the dead of winter,  _ watching _ her. No, not just watching her, but  _ gawking _ at her, with a tiny smirk on his very,  _ very _ handsome face and sparkly eyes. Rey knows she would’ve dropped her guitar if it wasn’t strapped to her like a seatbelt. 

Then, Kylo Ren  _ waves _ at her. He urges her to continue playing with a tiny smile on his face. So Rey does just that. It takes her a few moments to catch up to her own chords, but she’s back on track. She’s singing, a little louder now, unmoving. She doesn’t think she could move if she tried. Her boots stick to the sidewalk like they’re cemented, and Kylo Ren continues to watch her.

She finishes her song into the last chorus, skipping the bridge or forgetting it all together, she’s not sure. And he’s  _ still _ staring at her.

Then, he tells her, “Well, go on. Play another one.”

If she’s being honest with herself, she’s not sure she can. Rey is used to playing for random people on the streets of the city for grocery money, or in coffee shops that pay her with blueberry scones and wifi passwords. Rey isn’t used to playing for one of the most famous singer-songwriters of his generation.

“Please?” he asks her, when he doesn’t think she’s going to do anything.

So Rey levels her guitar, and begins strumming again, something even easier, something everybody knows. She can’t forget these lyrics. Rey has been singing this song since she was a little girl, and it’s a song she’s sure Kylo Ren has sang himself. Rey nods to a few passerbyers who drop a little more money in her case, and tries to find some semblance of a rhythm in her performance. People don’t give money to good singers. People give money to entertainers.

Well, that’s not completely true, because Kylo Ren is standing right in front of her, the man who never smiles or waves, or dances or taps his feet, but commands a stage with more than just his giant stature. People like Kylo Ren don’t need to be friendly when they can write soundtracks to movies that Rey has cried to and love songs that Rey sways to in her bedroom when she can’t sleep.

People like Rey need to be friendly, because people like Rey need to eat.

She finishes with a huff of air. She sees her breath, disintegrating into the air from her lungs like cigarette smoke. She thinks Kylo Ren is going to ask her to sing again, but instead he takes a step forward.

He thrusts his hand out, and Rey looks at it, dumbfounded. He rolls his eyes, and pushes it further into her space. Finally, she takes his obnoxiously large hand, and shakes it. “I’m—”

“Kylo Ren!” Finn interrupts, and Rey wants to swat him away, embarrassed and in awe all at once.

He laughs. “You can call me Ben. What’s your name?”

“Rey,” she squeaks. She finally lets go of his hand when she realizes she’s been holding it for far too long, but he hadn’t let go, either.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rey,” he says. His smile is kind, and Rey is shocked to find out just how friendly he seems to be. Kylo—Ben is a real person. He’s a person with a smile, and a warm hand, and he’s incredibly large and handsome. And he’s talking to her. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” she whispers.

“You’re very good,” he tells her. “I can’t sing in the cold.”

She shrugs. “Have to eat somehow.”

He smiles, again, and he’s shoving his hand into his pocket. He pulls out his wallet, but instead of money, he hands her a card. It’s white, and clean, with his name in black cursive and a phone number. “That’s my cell. I’d like you to call me, Rey.”

Rey’s eyes widen an impossible amount that makes Ben laugh. Her friend is behind her, watching the interaction carefully with a growing grin on his face that Ben thinks is quite accurate. Stupidly, Rey says, “For what?”

“I produce,” he says. 

“Oh,” she breathes. “Um, thank you, Ben, I will—”

He reaches into his wallet again and throws what Rey thinks is a twenty-dollar-bill into the case. “I don’t give my card to just anybody. I look forward to hearing from you.” He waves at them both, and walks backwards toward an apartment door. He steps inside without looking back.

When Rey looks down, it’s a hundred that he threw in her case.

* * *

Ben backs up toward Phasma’s apartment, and turns around at the door. He decides retreating into the window would undoubtedly be even weirder than jumping out of it to listen to some teenager sing a cover of an old song. Instead, he nearly cheers when he finds her apartment door to be unlocked, and enters to find his two friends crowding the door like starved animals. 

“What the fuck was that?” Phasma asks him, retreating to her couch. “What, you just jump out of windows for girls now?”

Hux looks just as confused. “And you gave her your card? With your personal number? You gave a  _ teenage girl _ your cell phone number?”

Ben shrugs. “She looks a little older than a teenager.”

“That’s not the point,” he says.

“The point is,” Ben says, findings his seat back on the chair against the wall. He pulls the window down with a creaky whine and it slams against the sill. He winces, sitting back down and crossing his legs. “She is very good. Could you sing in that weather?”

“Well, no—”

“Because she could,” he finishes. “Her voice was steady, she seems well-trained, and she can play guitar as well as you or me.”

Phasma shrugs. “She is quite charming.”

“What if she doesn’t call?” Hux asks.

Phasma laughs, unpleasant and short. “What teenage girl can resist Ben Solo?”

Ben ignores her. “She’ll call,” he says. “And when she does, I’ll show you all exactly why I gave her my card.”

* * *

Rey and Finn sit down for coffee at a diner on Avenue M. The waitress comes back to top off their mugs, and ask them if they’d like anything else. Rey knows she should eat, she knows she has the money to right now, but she’s not hungry. Not for food, anyway.

“That was  _ amazing!” _ Finn cheers, and he’s grinning from ear to ear.  _ “Kylo Ren _ wants you to call him. See, Rey!? I knew it would happen!”

Rey’s lips twist into a faint smile. “It was pretty amazing.”

“Someone was bound to notice you eventually!” he says. “I just didn’t think it would be Kylo Ren.”

“Did you know his name is Ben Solo?” Rey asks, staring down at the card in her hands. She already programmed his number into her phone, but fingering the card just makes it feel even more real.

Finn shakes his head. “Did you know he was that  _ hot!?” _

She snorts. “He’s  _ Kylo Ren _ . Of  _ course _ I knew.”

He laughs heartily, and takes a long sip of his coffee. “So, are you going to call him?” he asks, when the waitress is done topping him off again.

She shrugs. “I will, but not yet.”

“Why?” he asks with a lifted brow.

“I don’t want to seem to eager!” she says.

“You  _ are _ eager,” he retorts with a smile that makes Rey flush.

“Yes,” she agrees. “But I don’t want to  _ seem _ it.”

Finn and Rey go back to their apartment after skipping dinner and celebrate with a bottle of wine instead. Finn falls asleep on the floor next to her before Rey has a chance to push him into his bedroom. She leans back into the couch, and pulls the card out of her pocket again. She stares at it, caresses it with a long, gentle finger. She checks her phone again to make sure the number matches. Quietly, she puts the card up on her fridge with a magnet.

She decides to call him before she can change her mind.

It only rings twice.  _ “Rey?” _ he asks.

She almost blushes. Maybe she  _ is _ too eager. She only realizes she hasn’t answered him when he says her name again. “Yes, hi Ben,” she says, quickly.

She can hear the smile in his voice.  _ “I’m so glad you called,”  _ he says, and he does sound glad, and she does blush this time. She never thought she’d live to see the day that a man like Kylo Ren would be excited to talk to her, of all people.  _ “When are you free this week?” _

She hums, and thinks for a moment. “I don’t work Wednesday,” she says. 

_ “Wednesday is perfect,” _ he says.  _ “I’d like you to come to the studio. Text me your address, and I’ll send a car.” _

“I can take the subway,” she says, quickly, but Ben only laughs.

_ “I insist,” _ he says.  _ “I’m the one making you go all the way to Queens.” _

Rey nods. Then she realizes Ben can’t see her nod, and she says, “Thank you, Ben.”

_ “It’s my pleasure. I’ll see you Wednesday.” _ He disconnects with a quiet beep. Rey quickly texts her his address, and Ben responds with a perfectly punctuated thank you and smiling emoji.

Rey falls asleep to the sound of Ben’s voice, not for the first time. For the first time, though, she doesn’t need a speaker to hear it.


End file.
